Old-Fashioned Fairy Tales, by Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing

It is well known that the Good People cannot abide meanness. They like to be liberally dealt with when they beg or borrow of the human race; and, on the other hand, to those who come to them in need, they are invariably generous.

Now there once lived a certain Housewife who had a sharp eye to her own interests in temporal matters, and gave alms of what she had no use for, for the good of her soul. One day a Hillman knocked at her door.

“Can you lend us a saucepan, good Mother?” said he. “There’s a wedding in the hill, and all the pots are in use.”

“Is he to have one?” asked the servant lass who had opened the door.

“Aye, to be sure,” answered the Housewife. “One must be neighbourly.”

But when the maid was taking a saucepan from the shelf, she pinched her arm, and whispered sharply—”Not that, you slut! Get the old one out of the cupboard. It leaks, and the Hillmen are so neat, and such nimble workers, that they are sure to mend it before they send it home. So one obliges the Good People, and saves sixpence in tinkering. But you’ll never learn to be notable whilst your head is on your shoulders.”

Thus reproached, the maid fetched the saucepan, which had been laid by till the tinker’s next visit, and gave it to the dwarf, who thanked her, and went away.

In due time the saucepan was returned, and, as the Housewife had foreseen, it was neatly mended and ready for use.

At supper-time the maid filled the pan with milk, and set it on the fire for the children’s supper. But in a few minutes the milk was so burnt and smoked that no one could touch it, and even the pigs refused the wash into which it was thrown.

“Ah, good-for-nothing hussy!” cried the Housewife, as she refilled the pan herself, “you would ruin the richest with your carelessness. There’s a whole quart of good milk wasted at once!”

“And that’s twopence,” cried a voice which seemed to come from the chimney, in a whining tone, like some nattering, discontented old body going over her grievances.

The Housewife had not left the saucepan for two minutes, when the milk boiled over, and it was all burnt and smoked as before.

“The pan must be dirty,” muttered the good woman, in great vexation; “and there are two full quarts of milk as good as thrown to the dogs.”

“And that’s fourpence,” added the voice in the chimney.

After a thorough cleaning, the saucepan was once more filled and set on the fire, but with no better success. The milk was hopelessly spoilt, and the housewife shed tears of vexation at the waste, crying, “Never before did such a thing befall me since I kept house! Three quarts of new milk burnt for one meal!”

“And that’s sixpence,” cried the voice from the chimney. “You didn’t save the tinkering after all Mother!”

With which the Hillman himself came tumbling down the chimney, and went off laughing through the door.

But thenceforward the saucepan was as good as any other.

Old-Fashioned Fairy Tales, by Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing

There was once upon a time a child who had Good Luck for his godfather.

“I am not Fortune,” said Good Luck to the parents; “I have no gifts to bestow, but whenever he needs help I will be at hand.”

“Nothing could be better,” said the old couple. They were delighted. But what pleases the father often fails to satisfy the son: moreover, every man thinks that he deserves just a little more than he has got, and does not reckon it to the purpose if his father had less.

Many a one would be thankful to have as good reasons for contentment as he who had Good Luck for his godfather.

If he fell, Good Luck popped something soft in the way to break his fall; if he fought, Good Luck directed his blows, or tripped up his adversary; if he got into a scrape, Good Luck helped him out of it; and if ever Misfortune met him, Good Luck contrived to hustle her on the pathway till his godson got safely by.

In games of hazard the godfather played over his shoulder. In matters of choice he chose for him. And when the lad began to work on his father’s farm the farmer began to get rich. For no bird or field-mouse touched a seed that his son had sown, and every plant he planted throve when Good Luck smiled on it.

The boy was not fond of work, but when he did go into the fields, Good Luck followed him.

“Your christening-day was a blessed day for us all,” said the old farmer.

“He has never given me so much as a lucky sixpence,” muttered Good Luck’s godson.

“I am not Fortune—I make no presents,” said the godfather.

When we are discontented it is oftener to please our neighbours than ourselves. It was because the other boys had said—”Simon, the shoemaker’s son, has an alderman for his godfather. He gave him a silver spoon with the Apostle Peter for the handle; but thy godfather is more powerful than any alderman”—that Good Luck’s godson complained, “He has never given me so much as a bent sixpence.”

By and by the old farmer died, and his son grew up, and had the largest farm in the country. The other boys grew up also, and as they looked over the farmer’s boundary-wall, they would say:

“Good-morning, Neighbour. That is certainly a fine farm of yours. Your cattle thrive without loss. Your crops grow in the rain and are reaped with the sunshine. Mischance never comes your road. What you have worked for you enjoy. Such success would turn the heads of poor folk like us. At the same time one would think a man need hardly work for his living at all who has Good Luck for his godfather.”

“That is very true,” thought the farmer. “Many a man is prosperous, and reaps what he sows, who had no more than the clerk and the sexton for gossips at his christening.”

“What is the matter, Godson?” asked Good Luck, who was with him in the field.

“I want to be rich,” said the farmer.

“You will not have to wait long,” replied the godfather. “In every field you sow, in every flock you rear there is increase without abatement. Your wealth is already tenfold greater than your father’s.”

“Aye, aye,” replied the farmer. “Good wages for good work. But many a young man has gold at his command who need never turn a sod, and none of the Good People came to his christening. Fortunatus’s Purse now, or even a sack or two of gold—”

“Peace!” cried the godfather; “I have said that I give no gifts.”

Though he had not Fortunatus’s Purse, the farmer had now money and to spare, and when the harvest was gathered in, he bought a fine suit of clothes, and took his best horse and went to the royal city to see the sights.

The pomp and splendour, the festivities and fine clothes dazzled him.

“This is a gay life which these young courtiers lead,” said he. “A man has nothing to do but to enjoy himself.”

“If he has plenty of gold in his pocket,” said a bystander.

By and by the Princess passed in her carriage. She was the King’s only daughter. She had hair made of sunshine, and her eyes were stars.

“What an exquisite creature!” cried the farmer. “What would not one give to possess her?”

“She has as many suitors as hairs on her head,” replied the bystander. “She wants to marry the Prince of Moonshine, but he only dresses in silver, and the King thinks he might find a richer son-in-law. The Princess will go to the highest bidder.”

“And I have Good Luck for my godfather, and am not even at court!” cried the farmer; and he put spurs to his horse, and rode home.

Good Luck was taking care of the farm.

“Listen, Godfather!” cried the young man. “I am in love with the King’s daughter, and want her to wife.”

“It is not an easy matter,” replied Good Luck, “but I will do what I can for you. Say that by good luck you saved the Princess’s life, or perhaps better the King’s—for they say he is selfish—”

“Tush!” cried the farmer. “The King is covetous, and wants a rich son-in-law.”

“A wise man may bring wealth to a kingdom with his head, if not with his hands,” said Good Luck, “and I can show you a district where the earth only wants mining to be flooded with wealth. Besides, there are a thousand opportunities that can be turned to account and influence. By wits and work, and with Good Luck to help him, many a poorer man than you has risen to greatness.”

“Wits and work!” cried the indignant godson. “You speak well—truly! A hillman would have made a better godfather. Give me as much gold as will fill three meal-bins, and you may keep the rest of your help for those who want it.”

Now at this moment by Good Luck stood Dame Fortune. She likes handsome young men, and there was some little jealousy between her and the godfather so she smiled at the quarrel.

“You would rather have had me for your gossip?” said she.

“If you would give me three wishes, I would,” replied the farmer boldly, “and I would trouble you no more.”

“Will you make him over to me?” said Dame Fortune to the godfather.

“If he wishes it,” replied Good Luck. “But if he accepts your gifts he has no further claim on me.”

“Nor on me either,” said the Dame. “Hark ye, young man, you mortals are apt to make a hobble of your three wishes, and you may end with a sausage at your nose, like your betters.”

“I have thought of it too often,” replied the farmer, “and I know what I want. For my first wish I desire imperishable beauty.”

“It is yours,” said Dame Fortune, smiling as she looked at him.

“The face of a prince and the manners of a clown are poor partners,” said the farmer. “My second wish is for suitable learning and courtly manners, which cannot be gained at the plough-tail.”

“You have them in perfection,” said the Dame, as the young man thanked her by a graceful bow.

“Thirdly,” said he, “I demand a store of gold that I can never exhaust.”

“I will lead you to it,” said Dame Fortune; and the young man was so eager to follow her that he did not even look back to bid farewell to his godfather.

He was soon at court. He lived in the utmost pomp. He had a suit of armour made for himself out of beaten gold. No metal less precious might come near his person, except for the blade of his sword. This was obliged to be made of steel, for gold is not always strong enough to defend one’s life or his honour. But the Princess still loved the Prince of Moonshine.

“Stuff and nonsense!” said the King. “I shall give you to the Prince of Gold.”

“I wish I had the good luck to please her,” muttered the young Prince. But he had not, for all his beauty and his wealth. However, she was to marry him, and that was something.

The preparations for the wedding were magnificent.

“It is a great expense,” sighed the King, “but then I get the Prince of Gold for a son-in-law.”

The Prince and his bride drove round the city in a triumphal procession. Her hair fell over her like sunshine, but the starlight of her eyes was cold.

In the train rode the Prince of Moonshine, dressed in silver, and with no colour in his face.

As the bridal chariot approached one of the city gates, two black ravens hovered over it, and then flew away, and settled on a tree.

Good Luck was sitting under the tree to see his godson’s triumph, and he heard the birds talking above him.

“Has the Prince of Gold no friend who can tell him that there is a loose stone above the archway that is tottering to fall?” said they. And Good Luck covered his face with his mantle as the Prince drove through.

Just as they were passing out of the gateway the stone fell on to the Prince’s head. He wore a casque of pure gold, but his neck was broken.

“We can’t have all this expense for nothing,” said the King: so he married his daughter to the Prince of Moonshine. If one can’t get gold one must be content with silver.

“Will you come to the funeral?” asked Dame Fortune of the godfather.

“Not I,” replied Good Luck. “I had no hand in this matter.”

The rain came down in torrents. The black feathers on the ravens’ backs looked as if they had been oiled.

“Caw! caw!” said they. “It was an unlucky end.”

However, the funeral was a very magnificent one, for there was no stint of gold.

Collected And Edited By P. H. Emerson.

Once upon a time a lot of fairies lived in Mona.

One day the queen fairy’s daughter, who was now fifteen years of age, told her mother she wished to go out and see the world.

The queen consented, allowing her to go for a day, and to change from a fairy to a bird, or from a bird to a fairy, as she wished.

When she returned one night she said:

“I’ve been to a gentleman’s house, and as I stood listening, I heard the gentleman was witched: he was very ill, and crying out with pain.”

“Oh, I must look into that,” said the queen.

So the next day she went through her process and found that he was bewitched by an old witch. So the following day she set out with six other fairies, and when they came to the gentleman’s house she found
he was very ill.

Going into the room, bearing a small blue pot they had brought with them, the queen asked him:

“Would you like to be cured?”

“Oh, bless you; yes, indeed.”

Whereupon the queen put the little blue pot of perfume on the centre of the table, and lit it, when the room was instantly filled with the most delicious odour.

Whilst the perfume was burning, the six fairies formed in line behind her, and she leading, they walked round the table three times, chanting in chorus:

“Round and round three times three,
We have come to cure thee.”

At the end of the third round she touched the burning perfume with her wand, and then touched the gentleman on the head, saying:

“Be thou made whole.”

No sooner had she said the words than he jumped up hale and hearty, and said:

“Oh, dear queen, what shall I do for you? I’ll do anything you wish.”

“Money I do not wish for,” said the queen, “but there’s a little plot of ground on the sea-cliff I want you to lend me, for I wish to make a ring there, and the grass will die when I make the ring. Then I want you to build three walls round the ring, but leave the sea-side open, so that we may be able to come and go easily.”

“With the greatest of pleasure,” said the gentleman; and he built the three stone walls at once, at the spot indicated.

II.

Near the gentleman lived the old witch, and she had the power of turning at will into a hare. The gentleman was a great hare hunter, but the hounds could never catch this hare; it always disappeared in a mill, running between the wings and jumping in at an open window, though they stationed two men and a dog at the spot, when it immediately turned into the old witch. And the old miller never suspected, for the old woman used to take him a peck of corn to grind a few days before any hunt, telling him she would call for it on the afternoon of the day of the hunt. So that when she arrived she was expected.

One day she had been taunting the gentleman as he returned from a hunt, that he could never catch the hare, and he struck her with his whip, saying “Get away, you witchcraft!”

Whereupon she witched him, and he fell ill, and was cured as we have seen.

When he got well he watched the old witch, and saw she often visited the house of an old miser who lived near by with his beautiful niece. Now all the people in the village touched their hats most respectfully to this old miser, for they knew he had dealings with the witch, and they were as much afraid of him as of her; but everyone loved the miser’s kind and beautiful niece.

III.

When the fairies got home the queen told her daughter:

“I have no power over the old witch for twelve months from to-day, and then I have no power over her life. She must lose that by the arm of a man.”

So the next day the daughter was sent out again to see whether she could find a person suited to that purpose.

In the village lived a small crofter, who was afraid of nothing; he was the boldest man thereabouts; and one day he passed the miser without saluting him. The old fellow went off at once and told the witch.

“Oh, I’ll settle his cows to-night!” said she, and they were taken sick, and gave no milk that night.

The fairy’s daughter arrived at his croft-yard after the cows were taken ill, and she heard him say to his son, a bright lad:

“It must be the old witch!”

When she heard this, she sent him to the queen.

So next day the fairy queen took six fairies and went to the croft, taking her blue pot of perfume. When she got there she asked the crofter if he would like his cows cured?

“God bless you, yes!” he said.

The queen made him bring a round table into the yard, whereon she placed the blue pot of perfume, and having lit it, as before, they formed in line and walked round thrice, chanting the words:

“Round and round three times three,
We have come to cure thee.”

Then she dipped the end of her wand into the perfume, and touched the cows on the forehead, saying to each one:

“Be thou whole.”

Whereupon they jumped up cured.

The little farmer was overjoyed, and cried:

“Oh, what can I do for you? What can I do for you?”

“Money I care not for,” said the queen, “all I want is your son to avenge you and me.”

The lad jumped up and said:

“What I can do I’ll do it for you, my lady fairy.”

She told him to be at the walled plot the following day at noon, and left.

IV.

The next day at noon, the queen and her daughter and three hundred other fairies came up the cliff to the green grass plot, and they carried a pole, and a tape, and a mirror. When they reached the plot they planted the pole in the ground, and hung the mirror on the pole. The queen took the tape, which measured ten yards and was fastened to the top of the pole, and walked round in a circle, and wherever she set her feet the grass withered and died. Then the fairies followed up behind the queen, and each fairy carried a harebell in her left-hand, and a little blue cup of burning perfume in her right. When they had formed up the queen called the lad to her side, and told him to walk by her throughout. They then started off, all singing in chorus:

“Round and round three times three,
Tell me what you see.”

When they finished the first round, the queen and lad stopped before the mirror, and she asked the lad what he saw?

“I see, I see, the mirror tells me,
It is the witch that I see,”

said the lad. So they marched round again, singing the same words as before, and when they stopped a second time before the mirror the queen again asked him what he saw?

“I see, I see, the mirror tells me,
It is a hare that I see,”

said the lad.

A third time the ceremony and question were repeated.

“I see, I see, the mirror tells me,
The hares run up the hill to the mill.”

“Now”, said the queen, “there is to be a hare-hunting this day week; be at the mill at noon, and I will meet you there.”

And then the fairies, pole, mirror, and all, vanished and only the empty ring on the green was left.

V.

Upon the appointed day the lad went to his tryst, and at noon the Fairy Queen appeared, and gave him a sling, and a smooth pebble from the beach, saying:

“I have blessed your arms, and I have blessed the sling and the stone.

“Now as the clock strikes three,
Go up the hill near the mill,
And in the ring stand still
Till you hear the click of the mill.
Then with thy arm, with power and might,
You shall strike and smite
The devil of a witch called Jezabel light,
And you shall see an awful sight.”

The lad did as he was bidden, and presently he heard the huntsman’s horn and the hue and cry, and saw the hare running down the opposite hill-side, where the hounds seemed to gain on her, but as she breasted the hill on which he stood she gained on them. As she came towards the mill he threw his stone, and it lodged in her skull, and when he ran up he found he had killed the old witch. As the huntsmen came up they crowded round him, and praised him; and then they fastened the witch’s body to a horse by ropes, and dragged her to the bottom of the valley, where they buried her in a ditch. That night, when the miser heard of her death, he dropped down dead on the spot.

As the lad was going home the queen appeared to him, and told him to be at the ring the following day at noon.

VI.

Next day all the fairies came with the pole and mirror, each carrying a harebell in her left-hand, and a blue cup of burning perfume in her right, and they formed up as before, the lad walking beside the queen. They marched round and repeated the old words, when the queen stopped before the mirror, and said:

“What do you see?”

“I see, I see, the mirror tells me,
It is an old plate-cupboard that I see.”

A second time they went round, and the question, was repeated.

“I see, I see, the mirror tells me,
The back is turned to me.”

A third time was the ceremony fulfilled, and the lad answered

“I see, I see, the mirror tells me,
A spring-door is open to me.”

“Buy that plate-cupboard at the miser’s sale,” said the queen, and she and her companions disappeared as before.

VII.

Upon the day of the sale all the things were brought out in the road, and the plate-cupboard was put up, the lad recognising it and bidding up for it till it was sold to him. When he had paid for it he took it home in a cart, and when he got in and examined it, he found the secret drawer behind was full of gold. The following week the house and land, thirty acres, was put up for sale, and the lad bought both, and married the miser’s niece, and they lived happily till they died.